Yesterday as I was visiting Merida (the capital of the Yucatan), I started getting an violent allergic reaction (possibly to something I ate). First my hands and feet started itching, then my eyes watered, my face glowed red... I felt as if I were on fire... and my companions said that we should get to the hospital ASAP. Allergic reactions are potentially fatal since airways can shut down. So off we went.There are three very good hospitals in Merida that I know of and we were closest to Clinica Merida. All three of these hospitals are private hospitals.When I walked into the emergency room, the receptionist asked what the problem was, took my name and asked if I had insurance. That was it. My friend motioned for me to sit down but before I could sit the receptionist directed me to an exam room since she recognized a potentially serious problem. Before I could sit down there, the doctor entered, did a fast assessment and told me the options. Some slow acting pills or fast acting IV. By this time I was in agony and said "IV, Please!" (By the way, most if not all of the MD's that I have met in the Yucatan read English quite well and speak some English; this is because many medical textbooks are written in English).I was ushered to a bed in ER, undressed and put on my johnny coat. Almost before I could get into bed, a nurse was there to check my vitals, followed very rapidly by a saline IV hook-up. Within minutes, the prescribed meds (a cortizone and an antihistime) were tied into the saline solution and the itching and redness rapidly disappeared. The needle work for both the IV and the blood samples was extremely professional and completely painless. Various nurses kept checking on me and I was visited by the admitting MD as well as a allergic specialist. I was held for observation for about 7 or 8 hours and then given prescriptions for some meds for the week.The total cost for the visit including in-hospital meds, bed, blood work, MD visits, etc. came to less than 2,500 Mexican pesos or about USD$187. The prescribed meds for home-care totaled less than USD$45.I contrasted the level of care, the speed of admission and the total cost with that of my last visit to an emergency room in the US. I was admitted much, much faster in Mexico than I was in the US (in the US, I was experiencing chest pains and had been referred to the hospital ER by a cardiologist... my total admission time was at least 45 minutes before I was in a bed in ER... and another 1/2 hour before I was seen by an MD). My level of personal care was much greater in Mexico in that all of the various medical personnel seemed much less stressed and much more available to attend to me and my needs. And the cost difference was HUGE! An 8 hour bed in any ER that I know in the USA would be at least USD$1,000 to $1,500. And then add on the MD costs, the lab work and the med costs! Very easy to project a total cost of over 10 times as much.I don't know how to fix the health care system in the US, but it sure can be approved. There might be something to be learned from Mexico.

Vitamin B Complex wins hands down!Last December a visiting MD suggested taking Vitamin B complex on a daily basis for general health as well as for bug bites. Since that time I have been taking a B complex tablet every day. The vitamin that actually works is B12 but I take at least 100% of the MDR of all the B's. Since December I have had less than a dozen bites that I can remember. Yesterday brought the entire experience back to me vividly.

I was in the jungle yesterday with a friend; we were looking at a piece of property to purchase. It was a damp day with off and on light rain. And there were lots of bugs. I felt a sharp pain on my arm and looked down to see a huge fly taking a bite out of me. Before I could swat it, off it flew. But as soon as the fly flew, the pain stopped. And this morning, there was no welt. I took off one tick from my back last night, but found no other bug bites. My friend, however, was covered with bites, some became huge welts within a matter of minutes.We were attacked by the same bugs, but my reactions were markedly less.

I'm not sure if the vitamin B complex changes my taste and or odor so that the bugs don't like me as much as they used to or if the B complex changes the way my body responds to bug saliva or whatever they inject into the skin.

I went to the Mayan ruins at Chichen Itza last week as a spur-of-the-moment trip. I arrived at about the time I normally tell guests to leave... about 11:30 AM.

Usually by this time, the parking lot is full with cars and there are about 100 or more large busses from Cancun and Playa del Carmen. The lines to purchase tickets are large and your must fight your way through crowds of people .

When I arrived I was able to park in the shade in the lot closest to the entrance. I had no line to purchase my ticket and was besieged by guides to utilize their services. When I entered the grounds, it was if the time was 8:30 in the morning rather than mid-day (I normally recommend to my guest to arrive by 9:30 AM at the latest).

Almost no one there. It was easy to take a photo of any structure with no one else in the photo. On the way out, I counted the large busses in the parking area. There were 9 when normally there would be 115. When I returned to Cancun from NJ on 5 de Mayo, there were 2 people in first class and 23 in coach. There just are no tourists.

What does that mean to you? First of all, the airfares to Mexico are the lowest that I have seen them in 12 years... even lower than the fares were after 9/11 if I remember correctly. Secondly, wherever you go, you will be treated as special because there are so few tourists (at Casa Hamaca we always treat all of our guests that way... we treat them as special individuals not just as another number). All in all, a great time to visit the Yucatan.

House cleaning, Yucatan-styleThis is a subject that I have been loath to write about for fear it would scare off guests to Casa Hamaca. However, with the economy, the narcotraficante scare and now the swine flu scare, there are not a lot of guests to scare off. Tourist-related business all across Mexico is waaaay down.

Last night, I was awake at 2:00AM, thinking about some issues in my life when I heard my manager call out my name. I waited for a few minutes to hear her call out again or to knock on my door... and then I realized that she was not in Valladolid; she was spending the night in Chichimila. I put it out of my mind until this morning when the cook asked me if I made popcorn in the microwave at about 11:30 last night. I hadn't nor did anyone else 'fess up to making popcorn in the middle of the night. Then Karlos said that about 2:00 AM he had heard a number of people talking and walking about on the second floor... at a time and location when and where there were no guests or employees.

So what and/or who was it that made popcorn, walked and talked during the night and then called out my name at 2:00 AM? Alux? Spirits? Ghosts? Or what? When we discussed these phenomena this morning, a number of the staff expressed concern if not fear. All of my staff live in small villages surrounding Valladolid and all believe in alux and in other strange and wonderous beings. The local villages are filled with witches and shape-changers and Mayan-sirens and shaman and creatures that are now just part of the mythology of the Western, rational mind.

We all agreed that we needed a housecleaning... a cleansing to be more specific. So Tuesday, a shaman (h'men) is coming to do the annual feeding of the alux as well as a cleansing of the entire house and grounds.

Last year, in May, we fed the alux and have had no problems for about 11 months. For you who don't know about the alux, they are best described as Mayan leprechauns... small creatures with more or less human form that guard the fields and houses of the Yucatecans. But they need to be treated with respect and to be fed annually.

So what are the noises in the night? Things that go bump in the night? Ghosts? Spirits? or Alux? I'll let you know what happens Tuesday. And if anything changes Tuesday night. Where are the Ghostbusters when you need them?

When you move to a new town one of the first things you must do is find craftsmen and professionals you can work with and trust. You ask at the hardware store for a good plumber or at the lumberyard for a good carpenter. You ask at the bank or the real estate office for a good lawyer or doctor or dentist. It’s not always easy to find the right people but I’ve used this method successfully for many years in the USA. I’ve actually used it in the Yucatan as well with sometimes mixed-results. Results that sometimes make me look back at similar relationships in the states and wonder about agendas.

In Mexico, it’s pretty straightforward. “Oh, my cousin on my father’s side is a dentist. And he will take good care of you.” The referencer in the States is more like “Well, I’ve been going to doctor so-and-so for years and I’m happy with him.” Now, neither of these references actually says that the dentist or doctor in question has any idea what he is doing… just that he is known and will probably recognize the name of the person who gave you the reference.

It often comes down to trail and error. Try the dentist and hope that he doesn’t charge you an outrageous sum, hope that he does everything that needs doing without causing greater problems and hope that he can fit you into his busy schedule. If the first one doesn’t work out, you look for another one until you find one that fits with your needs and expectations.

You do essentially the same when looking for a new supermarket. Try it out and see how the prices compare, how fresh is the fruit and the meat, is there good customer service and sufficient parking. All the little things that add up to finding a service supplier that you can live with.

It’s always a little harder doing this in a foreign country with the language differences, cultural differences and the differences of how things are done. But the route is more or less the same. Similar decisions are made when looking for an h’men or shaman.Now what I mean by that term is not a curandero or a herbatero… people who treat, and often cure, with herbs and plants. It’s not a witchdoctor wearing a bone through his nose and shaking rattles (although a shaman might beat a drum or clap his hands… or even shake a rattle). And it certainly is not a brujo or bruja (a witch) casting malevolent spells. And it’s not the mushroom or cactus eaters of the north. The shaman might employ aspects of any or all of the previous callings in his work but primarily he is a spiritual healer who works with the natural world above, below and around him to put your needs, desires and problems together with the proper sprits. To follow the correct forms and put everything into alignment with all of the energies or winds or chi flowing in the optimum directions.

Looking for a good shaman is quite different in looking for a good plumber. First of all, most of us (gringos especially) have no background or experience with shaman or h’men so we wouldn’t know a shaman from a sham. I’m met and/or been treated by shaman in the Amazon jungles of Peru, the mountains of Guatemala and in various places in the Yucatan. Just to have the gall to claim that you are a shaman (perhaps in the same way that a preacher might claim to have private conversations with God) already puts him sort of out there. If he can do almost anything to back up his claim to be a shaman, I will probably believe him and whatever he says.

I use the pronoun “he” for convenience; the shaman I met and was treated by in Guatemala was a mountain woman with a Masters degree in anthropology. All the rest have been male. And I use the word “shaman”… the same word used by Siberian indigenous peoples probably since before hunters crossed the Bering Straits to the Americas. “H’men” is a Yucatec Mayan work and sounds to me as if it’s root was “shaman.”

I was not looking for the first shamans that I actually met. They just happened to show up in different places, doing their job. Out paths crossed accidentally (if there is such a thing as accidental). But the last two shaman I searched out for specific purposes.

I was led to the first one here in Valladolid. I asked everyone I knew if they knew a shaman, perhaps in their village. Finally, Luis took me to a small and somewhat grubby tienda almost on the outskirts of town. The kind of tienda that stocks one or two small cans of tuna and sardines and Spam, a few packages of crackers, some Bimbo bread and lots of fat, salty snacks and soft drinks. The kind of tienda that you can find on almost any street corner in the small towns and villages of the Yucatan. No one really hopes to make a living out of these small stores; but if they are going to be home all day anyway, why not make a few pesos by selling necesitas to your neighbors? Luis asked the lady gently swinging in the hammock if this is where the shaman lived. She gestured to the back, so we passed through another room where there were more women, children and infants in hammocks. In the third room was a man in a dirty sleeveless tee shirt, resting in a hammock. He sat up in the hammock upon our entrance and greeted us. A woman brought chairs for us. We sat and explained what we were looking for… a blessing ceremony for the Casa Hamaca structures, gardens and land. No problem, he replied.And told us what we needed to get together for the ceremony.

Our discussion then continued regarding the plants and herbs that he blends and uses for various purposes. This, by the way, this was all in Spanish. But we could all hear that Spanish was not the native language of the shaman. Yucatec Mayan was the language he was most comfortable with.

On the appointed day the shaman appeared at Casa Hamaca pedaling a yellow three-wheeler in which were his supplies. A folding table had already been set up in the middle of the garden for him along with a large number of small cascaras or gourd bowls. Sofi, our Mayan cook, had already made atole as per the shaman’s direction.

On the table the shaman set up a large framed picture of our Lady of Guadalupe at the rear of the table. A wooden board was placed across the table to hold 13 candles.He then carefully placed 13 cascaras filled with atole on the table. These were kept from tipping and spilling their contents by sitting in a quickly woven ring of palm leaf. The shaman then asked for the names of all who worked or lived at Casa Hamaca. As he lit the candles he asked if we had any incense. I had traditional copal incense. It was the kind of incense that needs to be started with wood or charcoal because it is just chunks of dried tree resin. I had purchased the resin at a bruja’s shop in one of the markets in Tuxla Gutierrez, Chiapas, a few years ago and still had some left.

As the incense started to burn in a small clay bowl, the shaman began his prayers. I was not raised a Roman Catholic but have attended enough Catholic services to recognize some of the liturgy. He sang or chanted in a mixture of Spanish and Mayan… seeming to move back and forth as the one language did not have the correct words for the moment. Frequently making the sign of the Cross, he petitioned a variety of saints to bless our house, bless our land and bless the people who worked and living there. Every so often, I could hear my name and the names of the people who work with me. Every so often I could hear “Padre, hijo y espirto sante” (Father, Son and Holy Ghost). If I closed my eyes, I would have thought that I had been transported to the church across the street and dropped there in the middle of mass.

After extended and repetitive prayers and petitions, the shaman took the still-smoking incense bowl and walked to each of the four corners of the property, walking along side of the stone walls that surround most of the property and continuing his prayers and petitions as he walked. At the four corners, he paused for a short time before continuing. He returned to the table. Snuffed the candles and poured all of the atole into a jug, made a final blessing and then he was done. The casa, the land and all that lived and worked on the land had been blessed. Sofi carried the jug of atole into the kitchen, washed out the cascaras and then filled them again for us all to drink. The entire ceremony took over two hours.